Best Friends
by I HEART JATAE
Summary: Ron notices Harry's been acting oddly. Sequeal to Ran Like Ink, but could stand alone as well. Some H/D slash. Rated for sexuality and mild language.


AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is a sequel to my fic Ran like ink, but could also stand alone. I wrote it because RLI got a couple sequeal requests, and because i'm a bit peeved at the lack of fics out there that portray the "coming out" process. Suprisingly enough, it's a lot easier with strangers than it is with someone you've known and trusted for years. Also, Ron tends to get neglected or made evil in HP/DM fics, or else paired up with some random character (i.e. Lavender Can-I-A-Look-At-Uranus Brown), which never fails to annoy me. So, here it is-- the RLI sequel seven months in the making. XP None of it belongs to me, JK Rowling owns it all, i am not worthy.... 

* 

"We can't keep this up, you know." 

Harry lay pondering in the four-poster bed, curled lazily around a wonderfully naked and half-asleep Draco Malfoy. Harry had his chin resting on top of his arms, which were folded across Draco's bare chest and left shoulder, one of his fingers tracing over protruding ribs absent-mindedly. Draco didn't open his eyes to respond. 

"Keep what up?" 

"This. Whatever's going on between us." 

Draco's eyes remained shut, but he pouted his lip slightly and looked annoyed. "I see no reason why not." 

"I do." 

"Like what?" 

Harry smiled. "Well, for one thing, I can't go on getting three hours of sleep every night." 

"Sure you can. That's what I've been doing, and I still look as fantastic as ever." 

"And eventually, someone's gonna notice me sneaking over here in the middle of the night." 

"That's what the invisibility cloak's supposed to be for, you dumb-arse." Harry grinned and re-positioned himself so that he could nuzzle Draco's pale neck. 

"Insulting me will get you nowhere when I know you don't mean it," Harry said in a sing-song voice, punctuating his statement with a playful lick at the Slytherin's earlobe. Draco hid his smirk with a sneer. 

"I've meant every insult I've ever given you," he drawled, even as somewhat clumsy fingers roamed his chest. 

"Sure, whatever you say." 

"I don't even... like you..." Draco would have continued, but the wet mouth and wandering hands and all-over warmth made it difficult to concentrate on such trivial things as words. 

"Of course you don't." Draco arched his back involuntarily as Harry's fingers found a (well-favoured) sensitive spot where leg met torso. 

"I can't stand you," he continued in a low growl, his hips moving in a desperate search for more contact. 

"I know." Then the wet heat of Harry's mouth moved, from neck to collar bone to ribcage, his motions slow and demanding. 

"I... hate you..." His would-be heartless tone was accented with heavy breathing and a low, throaty moan. Harry chuckled and slid further down the bed. 

"Ditto." 

* 

"Where've you been?" 

Harry jumped slightly. In the dim pre-dawn light, Harry hadn't seen his best friend waiting for him on Ron's bed. 

"Bathroom," Harry replied quickly with the first excuse that came to mind. Ron raised an eyebrow. 

"You need the invisibility cloak to go to the bathroom?" Harry blinked. 

"Umm... extra precautionary measure?" he tried. Ron narrowed his eyes. 

"Something's going on with you, Harry. You've been acting real odd the past couple weeks... You don't pay attention to anything I say, you fall asleep in class for no apparent reason, and you get all wierd whenever I insult someone. And you keep giving Malfoy this... this _look_." He'd given the last word a disgusted emphasis, as though "look" were equivalent to "blowjob". 

Harry cringed slightly. While he'd hoped Ron wouldn't notice his recent change in behaviour at all, he was thankful that he hadn't noticed as much as he could have. And what Ron said was only partially right. In all honesty, he _hadn't_ been paying attention to anything Ron said-- but only at mealtimes, when Draco was just across the room and in his direct line of vision. He _was_ falling asleep in class-- because he found sex more amusing when he was supposed to be sleeping. And he was especially glad Ron hadn't noticed he only got upset when he insulted Draco-- but then again, Draco was, for the most part, the only person Ron insulted. 

Harry shrugged. "I've been tired." He hoped this would be a sufficient excuse, for the moment. Ron gave him a penetrating look, then sighed. 

"Fine, whatever Harry," he muttered, crawling back into bed and closing the curtains. Harry exhaled. That was close. 

* 

"... And I still can't believe that Lavendar would do something like that! I mean, really, predicting Professor Dumbledore's death to be tomorrow morning is just plain rude, especially when neither of you two are listening to a word I'm saying, are you?" 

"Nope," Ron replied without hesitation. Hermione looked very peeved indeed, stabbing at her baked potato with her fork. Harry was, once again, spacing out, now gazing across the hall with a glazed-over look to his eyes. Ron was sitting next to him and kept looking between him and the Slytherin table, trying to find out just what was so fascinating. 

"What're you looking at?" Hermione asked Ron, confused. 

"I don't know yet," he replied, trying to follow Harry's gaze. But all he could see was Draco, looking as obnoxious as ever with the same stupid smirk on his face. Ron scratched his head. He watched as Draco looked around, as if to make sure no one was watching him, then poked out his tongue and ran it over his upper lip. 

Ron's eyebrows shot halfway up his forehead, but Malfoy didn't seem to notice his reaction. Ron looked at Harry, and noticed that The Boy Who Lived sat bolt upright in his seat. Ron's brow furrowed and he looked back at Draco, who wiped his mouth with his napkin and rose from the table. Harry stood up so quickly he caught his foot in his robes and fell face-first into his uneaten meal. 

"Um... Harry?" Ron said unsurely as Harry leapt up again, brushing himself clean of food and looking around the Great Hall (for Draco, who was nearing the door). 

"I'm going back to the common room," Harry said absently, ignoring Ron. 

"Harry, you hardly touched your dinner!" Hermione said with concern. "And why are you in such a hurry?" 

"I just realized that I, um, forgot something." Without waiting for his friends to question his vagueness, he hurried off. They didn't see him break into a run in the empty entrance hall. 

"What's going on with him?" Hermione asked, looking quite puzzled indeed. 

"I was hoping you knew," Ron said, sounding equally confused and somewhat hurt. "He never tells me anything lately." 

"Really? You're best friends, you'd think--" 

"He's sure as hell not acting it." Ron poked at his food glumly. "You think it's something I've done?" 

Hermione shook her head. "He'd be acting angry, not... not..." 

"Insane?" 

"Well, he's just very... distracted." 

"But the question is, by what?" 

"I don't know... What was it he was looking at?" 

"Malfoy, I think." Realization dawned on Hermione, but Ron was still left in the dark. 

"Oh, so _that's_ it," Hermione said before she could stop herself. 

"What's it?" Hermione snapped her mouth shut and looked down at her plate. 

"Um, nothing." 

"It's something to do with Malfoy, isn't it? What'd he do?" 

"Nothing! Well, not yet-- wait, maybe they did..." 

"Did _what_? Hermione, what's going on?" 

"Er... I promised not to tell." 

"He told you something and made you promise not to tell me?! He's supposed to tell me everything!" 

"Well, yes, but... it's a very sensitive subject, and not something you share with just anyone." 

"But I'm _not_ 'just anyone'! I'm _supposed_ to be his best friend!" The anger and indignation were more than just apparent in Ron's voice-- one would have to be quite deaf or else very, very stupid not to be able to detect them. 

"Ron..." Hermione spoke slowly, mentally willing Ron to calm down. She didn't want to make a scene. "There's... things. Going on, with Harry. Things I don't think you'd understand." 

Ron stared at her a few seconds. His jaw clenched in an emotion caught somewhere between rage and the deepest, most painful sort of disappointment. 

"Fine," he said finally, getting up from the table. "You two want to hide stupid stuff from me, go ahead. But friends don't keep secrets from eachother, especially not with eachother." Ron didn't seem to care whether or not that made grammatical sense. He threw his napkin down and stormed out, leaving a very guilty-looking Hermione to poke at her meal alone. 

* 

Harry made his jaunty way through the dungeon corridors, a dopey, spacey sort of grin gracing his features. He might have been more cautious if he'd known that not everyone else was still at dinner. 

"Have a good time, Harry?" 

He jumped, turning to look at the source of the voice, then wishing he hadn't. 

"Um... hi, Ron." 

The red-head was leaning against a wall a few feet away, arms crossed seriously over his long torso and staring blankly at him. 

"Lost?" he asked flatly after a few seconds' silence. 

"Err, yeah," Harry replied, unable to think of a better excuse. 

"Thought the Slytherins could help you?" His voice was amazingly bitter. Harry felt himself beginning to sweat. 

"Um..." 

"Apparently you thought Hermione could help, too, because she knows about it and wouldn't tell me." 

"Er... knows about what?" 

Ron gave a shrug that conveyed anything but apathy about the subject. "You tell me. You're the one who never tells me anything anymore." 

Harry looked down at his fidgeting hands. "I tell you _some_ things..." he protested weakly. 

"No, you don't!" Ron shouted. He cringed. It wasn't the anger that bothered Harry-- he was used to Ron's anger by now. It was the icy guilt in his stomach and the trust he could hear slipping away from him in Ron's voice. "You're hiding something, we both know that. But what you don't see is that you're so busy hiding it, so worried about dropping hints on accident, you're so _paranoid_ about me finding out whatever it is that you're afraid to tell me _anything_ and it's driving me insane! I just want to be your friend, Harry!" 

Silence smothered them. All Harry could think about was how he'd much rather be in Draco's bedroom right now. 

"I-- there's stuff you wouldn't get--" 

"Yes, I would! We've been best mates for six years! Six bloody years, Harry, and I don't care if you've been shagging Snape, McGonnagal, and my mum on a daily basis, I'll still there for you if you'll just let me!" 

Harry paused, considering. "Snape, McGonnagal, and your mum, huh?" 

He could sense Ron hesitating just a little, as though maybe he really didn't want to know. "You haven't been, have you?" 

"No! No, ugh, _no_. It's not quite that bad... I think." 

Ron shifted. "Who've you been shagging, then?" 

Harry opened his mouth, then stopped. Now or never. 

"Malfoy." 

Ron's silence seem to stretch into several eternities. 

"_All of them?!_" 

"_NO!_ Ugh, ew, God no! No, just... eh, just Draco." 

"Oh." 

Another long, heavy pause. Harry half-expected to hear crickets. 

"So who's on top?" 

"Ron!" 

"I'm only asking!" 

Harry shrugged and stared at some cracks in the floor. There was no way he could talk about this _and_ make eye contact. "We sort of... switch off." 

"Ah." More pausing. "So... are you... er, you like blokes, then?" 

Harry shrugged one shoulder. "I... don't know, really. I mean, Draco's the only one that I... you know... wanna do stuff with. I mean, I still like girls, I think, but--" 

"So you're bi, then?" 

Harry looked up and searched his friend's face for any signs of disgust or sarcasm, but only found mild curiosity. "Er... what?" 

"Bi. Bisexual. You like boys _and_ girls." 

"You can do that?" 

Ron laughed. Harry blushed. "Yeah, loads of people are like that. Fred and George are." 

"They are?" 

He laughed again. "You think you're the only non-straight person I know? I mean, have you seen the way Hermione looks at Lavender?" Harry glanced away, feeling a little stupid. "I always thought you knew about my brothers. I mean, they put the moves on everyone." 

"Well, yeah, but I thought they were only joking." 

Ron shrugged. "They are, mostly. But, I mean, they're sort of half-serious, too." Harry couldn't help remembering the time the twins had walked by and both grabbed his rear at the same time. 

"Hm. I always thought it was a sort of... either-or thing." 

"Why should it be?" 

Harry couldn't think of an answer, so he changed the subject. "So, Fred and George..." he began thoughtfully. 

"Ohhh no, don't even go there," Ron interrupted, shaking his head and waving his hands about emphatically. "I will NOT have you running around with my pornographic brothers. Besides," he added, smirking, "you've got a nice new Slytherin doll to play with." 

Harry blushed again and started to head back towards Gryffindor tower. "Yeah, I know, but... I don't know. It's fun, but it's mostly just sex..." He smiled ironically. "He'll probably get bored and dump me in a month." 

"Sometime before you start inviting the slimy little git back to our common room, I hope," Ron said half-playfully. "I don't know _what_ you see in him, Harry. The sex must be bloody spectacular for you to want to put up with him." 

Harry's grin widened considerably. "Oh yeah," he drawled. "There's this thing he does with his tongue sometimes, it-- er." He stopped, glancing sideways at Ron. "You don't wanna hear about it." 

Ron laughed again, a little uncomfortably. "Er, yeah. Though I'll probably be telling you all about it first time I shag someone." 

Harry smirked. "Speaking of which... when are you and Hermione going to get through this unresolved sexual tension thing you've got going between you?" 

Ron blushed, and Harry laughed. He was glad to get back to normal. 

END 


End file.
